


Paraesthesia

by Rungian



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Is it masturbatory to write fanfic of your own fanfic, M/M, Nudity, Takes place partway through Diplomatic Affairs, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rungian/pseuds/Rungian
Summary: Vetinari muses while Vimes sleeps.Set in the middle of Diplomatic Affairs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Diplomatic Affairs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061051) by [Rungian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rungian/pseuds/Rungian). 



> This is a side-story to Diplomatic Affairs, set between chapters 3 and 4, and is totally not an excuse for me to practice writing Vetinari not being a bastard.
> 
> Happy (late) birthmas Ewela I did done u a thing (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

 

Lord Vetinari opened his eyes to face the troublesome fact that, once again, he was awake when he would far rather be asleep.

 

His back was screaming again. The dull throbbing ache had become a constant companion over the last few months, but these episodes of ripping, searing agony were both frustratingly unpredictable and inconveniently frequent. The Patrician's brow flickered in a grimace as he sucked in a slow, quiet breath through his teeth.

 

Only one of the candles was still alight, sputtering out a feeble glow which cast strange, faint shadows dancing across the ceiling of his bedchamber. Vetinari watched one of the flickering shapes, thankful for the distraction, as he waited for the spasms in his shoulders to subside.

 

There was a draught from somewhere, he realised as a brief puff of cold air brushed over his bare chest. A stifled shiver touched the thin body, though only partly because of the chill.

 

As the last twitches died away, Lord Vetinari closed his eyes again briefly. He was not a medical man, but he made a point of having a passing knowledge of any subject that might potentially arise in a civic meeting and therefore knew enough to realise that it was a miracle he still had full mobility in his neck and shoulders, even if they were now prone to bouts of stiffness. No matter what he said, or did not say, to Vimes, he'd been far more damaged than he cared to admit.

 

And speaking of Vimes...

 

As if on cue, there was a snore from the vicinity of Vetinari's ribs. Lazily, he looked down at the shape of Commander Vimes, who was very soundly asleep with one arm flung across the Patrician's thin chest, and who looked remarkably comfortable considering his choice of pillow was the bony part of Vetinari's elbow.

 

Still watching Vimes through heavy-lidded eyes, Vetinari considered the coolness of the air against his naked body and contrasted it to the heat and weight of the watchman, who was laying half on-top of him and half to the side. Though alien, the feeling of the other man sleeping on top of him was of some small comfort. The smallest of smiles flickered across the Patrician's sharp lips, gone as quickly as it came despite there being no one to see through the dimly-lit murk.

 

Carefully, mindful of his aching neck, Vetinari lay his head slowly back down on the pillow. There was an irritating stickiness on his stomach, just above his navel. Ignoring this, Vetinari reached with his free hand and pulled the thin blanket up a little further over his legs to fend away the slight chill which had descended despite the summer heat. He would not have bothered if not for the cold; being naked in the presence of a subordinate was not the inconvenience it might once have been1. Circumstance had necessitated that he learn very quickly to overcome the humiliation of at least partially-public nudity.

 

Both dark eyebrows raised in surprise as Vimes snorted in his sleep and shifted his weight. The movement freed the Patrician's arm a little, and Vetinari grimaced again as feeling flooded back into the numbed limb, bringing with it that familiar unpleasant prickling sensation. Yet even this was welcome; for his brief imprisonment, Vetinari had grown very accustomed to both pain and numbness2, but paraesthesia, though uncomfortable, was another anchor to the present against the rolling waves of the past. He smiled again despite himself, and, with no witnesses, this smile was tinged with just the barest amount of relief.

 

Allowing the yawn to escape, Lord Vetinari closed his eyes and, with a fluid movement somewhere between a casual stretch and a purposeful but disguised caress, he allowed his spare hand to fall over the arm Vimes had draped on his chest.

 

For the first time in weeks, sleep came quickly. For the first time in months, it was undisturbed by dreams and the echoing crackle of a dying flame.

 

* * *

 

 

1 The fact that the subordinate in question was _Vimes_ was a far larger factor in this situation than even Lord Vetinari cared to acknowledge.

2 Regrettably, the former far more than the latter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Weh  
> Just call me Trashlord  
> *gets irritated that Vetinari relies so heavily on implications*  
> *writes a fic entirely in implications*  
> It me


End file.
